


All I Want

by y0uth



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, Angst, Cheating, Depressed Louis, Divorce, F/M, I'm Sorry, M/M, One Shot, Sad!Louis, Too Many Metaphors, What my thoughts sound like, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform, side-ziam, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/y0uth/pseuds/y0uth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis thinks too much, he always has and maybe that's why Harry left in the first place.<br/>or<br/>All good things come to an end even if Louis doesn't want them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! Hi! This is my first published fic ever. I have a few people to thank so...
> 
> Biiig big thank you to my best friend Erin. I sent her this paragraph by paragraph, panicking about how it sounded. Bless her for plot ideas, being honest, and crying about this with me. Also big thank you for Stephanie, someone I RP with, for going to summer camp. I was craving something to write, so the lack of writing with her budded into this angsty thing. 
> 
> The title/fic is inspired/named after All I Want by a lovely band called Kodaline. I listened to this in rotation with the soundtrack from the movie Her while I wrote this, so listen to them for the full effect. Love you all <3
> 
>  
> 
> Please please /please/ feel free to leave me comments!!!  
> My tumblr is: 0uttamy-limit.tumblr.com

There are so many put downs to good things. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. All good things come to an end. Louis really wonders why good things can’t stay good things, and why good things have to change, and why good things never seem to grip tight to his heart the way bad things do. He wonders why doors open to the outside, and why they lock you out when you want to be inside. He wonders why his door won’t open, and why the door hasn’t felt a knock against it’s grain since it was slammed by hands Louis hasn’t felt against his skin in months. 

Louis’ mind can get so active when he spends ticks and tocks with his eyes fixated on small indentations and bumps on his ceiling. He thinks about final words. Final words are something he’s never liked. He doesn’t like goodbyes, he doesn’t like big purchases, he doesn’t like contracts. He hates them so much that he has a stack of papers waiting for his signature on a small line saying that things are final. Louis doesn’t want his name on those papers because there are other words he likes more than ‘final.’ He likes maybe, and he likes return. He likes someday, and he likes temporary. He likes forever when it’s used in the same context as I love you and never leaving but he doesn’t like final. 

Even though Louis hates finality, it’s what sticks to the sides of his memory like a few extra pounds around Christmas. He remembers things, they’re blurry but that isn’t because they’re fading. He was just small enough to fit in a glass of boiling water, hardly able to hear the words ‘I can’t do it anymore’ through the sloshing in his ears. He felt small enough to fit in the glass but spread so thin he could cover every ocean. He felt all laid out when things for them were final, and this time he knew that those hands weren’t there to mould him back to his shape. He knew that this time there weren’t able hands there to dry off the drops that stuck to his lashes when he was himself again. 

Just like the water he could shroud with his body, his thoughts ebbed and flowed between memories and dread. Worry and fondness. Pain and hope. Love and hate. Those brought Louis to his next topic, not finality, not doors or even good things. Love. He wondered what it really meant. He felt like an infant holding a dictionary and chewing on the page that held words starting with L and O. He felt like he had been misinformed about love was because as far as he was concerned, love wasn’t the smell of someone else’s perfume and love wasn’t lies. Love wasn’t slammed doors and love wasn’t hoarse voices that weren’t even really necessary because there were no more words to say. Love was the way the light hit forests contained in spheres that met skies concealed behind lashes. Love was the cold soaked tshirts from the water fights when dinner was so close to burning on the stove. Love was the stove’s knobs being turned to off when he was being carried away, lips latched between his neck and shoulder. Love was the dust on one knee after presenting the biggest gift he’d ever received. Love wasn’t cold sheets or final documents. 

Louis’ thoughts were cut as short as hours of thoughts could be cut when his phone rang. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and grabbing it. He put it to his ear hearing harmonized laughs before, ‘Hey, hey Louis? Lou, hey, it’s Harry.” the voice said, the tone a bit softer. Louis’ heart swelled in his chest to the point of reaching his throat and suffocating his words. “Hi.” he managed. A soft sigh rang in his ear. “I hate to bother you but… the date’s coming up. I need you to sign the papers.” Louis looked at his lap, hearing her voice in the background. His hand trembled slightly, the other clutched too tightly in his hair for it to move. “Y-Yeah.” He mumbled, standing and walking to the living room. He opened the folder, staring at the words under his nose, reaching for a pen. “How long do I have?” He asked, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “A week, Lou.” Harry stated, sounding a bit tired of it all. Louis stared at the line, hanging up the phone and clicking his pen. He shut the folder, resting face in his hands, eyes stinging. There were some things he couldn’t do, like cook more than five meals, or fall asleep alone, or drive in the rain, and apparently signing his name was now a part of that list. 

Louis heard his phone chime and he opened the notification, eyes scanning the words. 

‘Lunch, tomorrow. I’ll be at TAP around twelve. Bring the papers, please. -H’

Louis licked his lips, scrolling up the slightest bit. He shook his head, feeling like an idiot for doing so. The last message from Harry before the invitation was 

‘Gem has me in a baby store. I want to buy out everything pink so we’ll have more incentive ha x’

He shook his head, tossing his phone and laying face first on the couch. He took shaking breaths until he was somewhere between a light sleep and being awake. That was really all he got these days. He didn’t wake up until the next morning around eleven. His heart felt misplaced, his chest a bit tight as he realized he’d have to face him in just an hour. He showered, still not used to the walls being so far apart and the water only hitting his skin rather than being hogged by the brick wall of a man in front of him. He didn’t really try to look his best, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good anyway. He drove off, hands trembling against the wheel as he pulled up, going to the booth that used to house them every Saturday evening. He slid in, eyes stinging furiously as a girl with black hair flashed him a sorry little smile, her hand linked with Harry’s. “Hey, glad you could make it!” Harry mused as Louis set the papers on the table. Louis always thought he Harry had more tact, but he was wrong about a lot of things lately. 

Louis’ eyes were fixated on the girl across from him, not exactly prepared to be in the presence of his replacement. He took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah, I… brought these. I… uh, I still need to do this.” He said, opening the folder once again and signing his name faster than he thought possible. He shut the folder and slid it to Harry, their eyes locking. Harry cleared his throat, taking it and smiling, his eyes apologetic. He’d never seen Louis like this. He’d never seen a film of numbness over his eyes, or a curve in his spine that made him look smaller. He’d never seen Louis with five o’clock shadow with sunken eyes and trembling hands, he’d never seen a shirt fall off of him that actually belonged to him. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to think about it. If he thought too hard, he’d regret everything he had going now. He had someone confident, someone mature, someone he didn’t have to take care of every second of every day. He had someone he could see as an adult rather than the same sad boy from high school that he fell in love with. In his eyes, he was doing what was right for himself, and to be able to see that, he had to ignore the inkling of sadness he got when he arrived home to a woman with a stack of papers to grade next to her rather that Louis cocooned in all the blankets they owned, a book peeking out of the heap of material. He had to pretend he didn’t forget Louis bouncing on the bed to wake him up on special days, and he couldn’t deny that he missed watching Louis slink around the house wearing not much more than Harry’s shirt from the night before. He snapped out of his thoughts when Louis started to slide out of the booth. “It was… nice to meet you.” He said, looking at Alex. He looked at Harry and nodded his head, out of the door before Harry could ask him if he didn’t want to stay. He was only a little embarrassed when he had to tell the waiter that he didn’t need the third coffee he ordered, made specifically to Louis’ standards. He lied when Alex asked him if he was alright that evening when he was staring at the shaky lines of Louis’ signature and the small but obvious crinkles in the paper where tears had faded the ink a little, blurring some of the conditions of their divorce. 

☁

Harry met Alex at a grocery store late one night when Louis was sick at home. He was rummaging through aisles, comparing flavors of cough syrups, phone caught between his ear and shoulder as he laughed softly. “It’s not like you’re drinking this with your dinner, baby. Cherry or grape?” He asked, his smile wide. He heard the croaky little voice on the other end and set the cherry on the shelf, chuckling to himself. “Be there soon.” He crooned softly, hanging up after he reminded Louis he loved him. He grabbed a few things he would need to make Louis some homemade soup and even grabbed a rental from the little machine outside. Everything was alright until he backed out of his parking space, feeling an odd thumb and getting out, rubbing his face as he realized that he and the woman behind him were backing out at the same time. This was the last thing he needed. He walked toward her, sighing deeply as she got out of the car, arms crossed and face contorted in annoyance. “I’m so sorry, look, I’ve got someone sick to get this cough syrup to at home so if we can just exchange numbers and settle this tomorrow I’d be really grateful.” He rushed out. Alex smirked a little, assessing the damage with a small glance. It was just a scratch to the paint, maybe a small dent, but she wouldn’t mind exchanging numbers, so she agreed. She shook his hand, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” she offered, her voice raspy, giving it a sort of sultry tone. Harry smirked a little, his natural charm coming out. “Course. Thanks so much, Alex.” He winked, getting in his car and speeding off to get to Louis. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of a rush from the small exchange but it settled once he got home and heard strained coughing and a pathetic little whimper. He spoon fed Louis his medicine and made his soup before putting on the movie..’ He watched, holding the boy to his chest the whole way through. For some reason he couldn’t get the oddly refreshing brown eyes and smooth black hair out of his mind. 

Harry didn’t have much time to let thoughts of Alex linger because around three the next day, he received a phone call.He crept out of bed, allowing Louis to sleep in peace while he went to the living room, sitting on the couch. He answered, ignoring the smile across his face as he spoke with Alex, listening to her raspy laugh, to her dismissal of the accident last night. “Just… meet me for a late lunch? I just got out of work.” She offered. Harry licked his lips, smiling. “I’d love to, just text me the address of where you want to go. My treat for not looking after all.” He laughed softly. Louis was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, blankets around his shoulders as he listened. He bit his lip, sliding back into the room before Harry saw him and crawling into bed. He’d try not to let it worry him, but it did. It always did. He knew there was so much better out there for Harry, that there was so much more, but he was selfish, and he knew that, so he kept Harry all to himself. When Harry hung up, he walked to bed and laid next to Louis, cradling him to his chest and kissing all over his face. “M’going to lunch with a friend, honey. You think you’ll be alright?” He asked carefully. Louis’ response was vacant. A shrug, a wipe of the kiss on his cheek and a turn. He turned his back to Harry, mumbling out a ‘kay’ before shutting his eyes. Harry rolled his own, jaw clenched as he walked out and shutting the door a little harsher than usual. 

After a thoughtful fifteen minute drive, (he couldn’t get the sound of the door slamming out of his mind. He was normally so gentle, but he could only be soft for so long.) he pulled up to a cafe he’d never been to before but wasn’t too interested in it when he spotted Alex waiting by the door, hair down and framing her face as she looked down at her phone. She looked up, smile spreading across her lips when she saw Harry. It was refreshing to see someone smile at him that way. He walked over, offering a hello and holding the door open for her. He was pleased by the ambiance of the restaurant, and even more impressed by the company. Alex sat across from him, “So… before I sue the hell out of you for scratching up my car, I recommend the garden burger.” She smirked, laughing softly as she sipped her water. Harry laughed, not even really sure what to say. He hadn’t had someone joke with him in quite some time, but damn did it feel good. Maybe not quite as good as when Louis did it, but it still felt good. “Well, garden burger it is.” He decided. 

After a garden burger and two beers, conversation was flowing freely and Harry felt good. He felt refreshed and he felt content. He’d learned that Alex taught high school and was greatly appreciated at her school for her dry humor, killer brownies that she took to potlucks (they always varied ingredients depending on the stress level of the school year), and her capability to make literature more interesting. Harry hadn’t been around such a free spirit in a while. He hadn’t been around someone who took risks, who left the house even. Alex had learned that Harry had been through Uni for a math major when he didn’t care about numbers unless it was to mark time on a piece of music. She learned that he preferred coffee to tea even though he drank tea to please his partner, and that sadly, he had a partner at home. It was a good conversation, one that Harry was pleased to have. When their check came, Harry took care of it before Alex could argue (which she did anyway) and tipped before she could object (which she did anyway.) They walked out, side by side and lingered by Alex’s car door. “I had a great time, Harry.” Alex said, unable to wipe the small smile from her lips. “Maybe I won’t sue you.” She laughed softly. Harry rolled his eyes fondly, “Oh good. Looks like my work is done, then.” He joked. His work was far from done and it was bittersweet. It was like a job where he had to sit on a chair of spikes and answer phones but had an excellent wage and ice cream delivered to his desk daily. The spikes weren’t even too sharp. Alex smiled, “Sounds like it is. But don’t be a stranger,” she warned, getting into her car before her urges got the best of her. Harry smiled and promised he wouldn’t, walking to his car and having to take a deep breath, head back against the seat before starting the car. What was he getting himself into? 

 

☁

 

The next morning, the divorce papers were sitting on the table while Alex and Harry laid in bed, legs crossed and cereal bowls in hand. Harry licked his lips, “You ever notice how we always buy the types of cereal that scrape the roof of your mouth?” he laughed, running his tongue over the raw skin and shuddering a little. Alex looked at him, raising a brow and laughing. “Maybe you’ve got a weird mouth. It doesn’t hurt mine.” she smiled fondly. She turned on the tv to the news, sighing quietly. “So… that was him?” She asked, not wanting to tiptoe around the awkward lunch yesterday. Harry nodded slowly, “Yeah. Yeah, that was him.” He mumbled, shrugging it off and avoiding her eyes. Alex sighed, “He didn’t look too great…” she pointed out quietly, a heavy guilt settling over her. She had that same sad little look Louis used to have, but his was nearly every day and it made Harry want to tear his own hair out toward the end. With Alex, he just wanted to kiss it away, so he did. “Yeah, he just… he’s normally not the bounciest, or the happiest. I guess this didn’t really make it better. At least he signed, though… it’s been months.” He sighed, obviously frustrated. Alex nodded, changing the subject so she wouldn’t darken the situation more than she needed to. She didn’t like to dampen moods, so she simply chose not to. 

Their morning drawled on like any usual morning consisting of more cereal and impromptu shower sex. Things were quiet around their place until Harry’s phone cut through the quiet causing Alex to jump a little. She snorted at herself for being so easily scared, but handed Harry his phone. A smile spread on his lips when he realized who it was, putting the phone to his ear, taking a sip of his coffee before answering. He could hear faint screaming and a frustrated whine from a deeper, more masculine voice. Zayn chuckled on the other end of the line, “Hey Harry,” he said, traveling from the scene of the argument to his bedroom. “Sorry, Ali won’t quit yelling at Liam.” He beamed. “How have you been?” He asked. Harry smiled, setting his coffee down and resting against the couch, some sort of blissful smile on his lips. It felt warm to talk to one of his old friends. Things went downhill with most of them after he and Louis parted ways, so it was a good feeling to talk to someone that sounded like home. “I’ve been good, yeah. How about you?” He asked, hearing the whole spiel about the baby, and Liam, and their new house. “Anyway, I wanted to know if you and Alex might want to come over for an early dinner? Ali’s just waiting to be picked up by Liam’s sister and we’re seriously lacking in social contact.” He laughed softly. Harry grinned, ear to ear. “Of course, yeah, I’m sure she’ll love that.” He said, looking at Alex who really couldn’t say no with that gleam in his eye. He got the details and said his goodbyes, hanging up and bouncing in his seat, a little giddy about it all. “I haven’t seen him in ages. Are you sure you’re alright with going?” He asked. Alex nodded, laughing softly. “Harry, you look like a kid in a candy store. Of course I’m fine with it.” she smiled, pressing a sugar sweet kiss to his lips before going off to get ready.  
Within a few hours, Zayn and Liam’s beer was cluttered in plates, napkins and beer bottles. They’d had a blast hanging out with Harry and getting to know Alex. They’d made a joint decision to move on the way they should and just let Harry be happy because they couldn’t do a thing to change what happened. When things were dying down and Alex was catching an episode of some paranormal show with Liam, Zayn pulled Harry into the kitchen while he put the food away. “Have you seen him?” He asked quietly. Harry nodded, tipping back his beer and letting it roll down his throat. “He’s a mess. We met him for lunch yesterday. It… It was hard seeing him that way.” He sighed. Despite Louis’ sad demeanor, he knew how to have fun. He knew how to smile, and he knew how to love, and he knew how to light up a room if it was a good day. But seeing him yesterday, frail, unkempt, and dead eyed was one of the things that Harry wished he could wipe clean from his memory. Zayn nodded, “I haven’t spoken to him. He won’t answer my calls, or Liam’s for that matter. We always try inviting him over but he won’t respond to texts either. Niall even tried calling him but he said Lou just told him he was busy.” He shrugged. Harry’s heart sank, “He won’t answer your calls?” He asked, licking his lips and taking out his phone at the off chance that Louis may have texted him or something. Anything. Zayn shook his head sadly, snapping the lid onto a container in silence. Harry shook his head, “I know… I know this is probably a bad time, but I need you to check on him Zayn. I need you to like physically go over there and make sure he hasn’t done anything bad. I’m really worried about him.” He said, a waver in his voice that only indicated a lump in his throat. He couldn’t forgive himself, deep down. He couldn’t make himself forget the way things happened and he couldn’t take back what he did to Louis, and it just made it that much harder to be happy. It was a storm. It built and built and he could feel the inevitable damage that this could cause. He had a bad feeling in his bones and he couldn’t let that go. He couldn’t live with himself if something bad happened and he could sense it all along. 

Zayn sighed, wondering /why/ he let Harry to convince him to do that. He took a deep breath, knocking lightly on the door in front of him. Louis heard the knock, gaze averting from the blank wall to the door. He didn’t do much else than stare since Harry left. As bad as it sounded, as pathetic as it was, he didn’t have the willpower to do anything. His life consisted of eating when he felt dizzy, showering when he needed to hear something other than his breathing, the wind, or the ticking of his clock. He reminisced and thought a lot, usually, looking at old pictures, reading old notes and texts, reliving everything that he wished he was good enough to still have. He got up, padding to the door and cracking it open, looking out and blinking. “Zayn?” He mumbled, opening the door a bit further so Zayn could come in. He flicked on the porch light and shut the door, wrapping his arms around his frail waist, eyes fixed on the boy. Zayn’s stomach churned as he took in the sights around him. Louis was skin and bones and dark circles. The house was dim, two mugs on the table. He never got around to cleaning up after their last fight, so the broken picture frame was still against the wall, glass lining the edge between the wall and the floor. “Louis.” He breathed, walking over and wrapping his arms around him. He had no idea it was this bad. Louis hid in Zayn’s chest, finding comfort in the gesture. He shut his eyes and if he tried hard enough, he could pick up Harry’s scent in the material of Zayn’s shirt. He could pick out the earthy notes and the sweet undertones. He was just as warm as Harry was, too. He hadn’t been held in months. He let out a soft, unexpected sob into Zayn’s chest, clutching his shirt, tears flooding down his cheeks and into the soft material of Zayn’s t-shirt. Zayn rubbed his back, pressing a comforting kiss to his scalp as he lead him to the couch, sitting him down and making sure he was alright. 

Louis wasn’t alright. Louis was everything short of insane right now and he was sure that that was the next stage of whatever he was going through. Louis’ world had already crashed and burned, his life was void of any kind of contact, he let himself go. If he could just stop remembering and stop thinking and stop desperately loving Harry, then maybe he would be alright, but he was anything but alright.

☁

Three months after Alex had stepped into Harry’s life, things began to crumble. Louis noticed how often Harry left, he noticed how distant Harry was becoming, he smelled someone else on his skin when Harry was close enough to touch. He knew something was going on, but who was he to mention anything when he wasn’t even worthy enough to have Harry anyway? It was a Thursday. It was a Thursday night when Louis was sitting on their couch, blood boiling. It was a Thursday night that Harry stumbled in,eyes red and stinging. It was a Thursday night that Louis looked out the window at the wrong moment, seeing his husbands lips locked gently with another woman’s. 

Harry remembered things differently than Louis did. Harry remembered the drive back from Alex’s house, having had her pick him up since Louis was out with the car for once. They had dinner and a long talk at Alex’s house, and they decided it was the day to tell Louis. Harry had to confess, he had to tell Louis gently, he had to tell him the truth and see where things went from there. It was weighing on him to have to sneak around with Alex, it was hard for him to have to lie straight to Louis’ face when he’d slip up and leave little clues for Louis to suspect that something wasn’t going the way it was supposed to. He told Alex he’d call her after he spoke with Louis and let her go with a soft kiss and a worried pit in her stomach. What Louis saw was different. He saw the kiss and nothing else. 

Louis was hurt, of course he was hurt. He felt like everything he’d worked for, everything he’d cherished was gone, stripped away like layers of skin being shaved off. Harry, the reason Louis got out of bed in the mornings, the reason he spoke, the reason he sang, the reason he knew how to love was with someone else. Someone better. Louis eyes shifted to the door, tears welling in them the second they locked with Harry’s. “Who is she?” He croaked, expecting a simple answer for a simple question. He could feel the swelling of his chest, the shaking of his hands, the lump in his throat, but he couldn’t make himself believe it. He couldn’t make himself believe that he’d seen Harry with someone better, and he looked… happy. He hadn’t seen Harry happy in a long time. 

Harry approached Louis slowly, sitting next to him and muting the television. “Her name is Alex.” He whispered, looking at Louis behind the tears in his own eyes. He took a shaky breath, “Her name is Alex, and I’ve been seeing her for about three months… I’m… I’m in love with her, Louis. I’m sorry.” he breathed. Louis felt flames engulf every drop of blood inside him, his skin crawling over his muscles and his muscles tightening around his bones. “You what?” He asked, breaths coming out in labored, staggered huffs. Harry looked up, “I’m in love with her.” He whispered. Louis felt his lungs collapse in his chest. He felt every bit of oxygen escape from his blood and it would have felt better to have dropped and died on the spot, but Harry’s words continued to constrict around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing until he couldn’t do anything but scream. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” He cried, voice rattling the walls. Harry jumped, looking at Louis and standing, “You can’t be mad at me, Louis! I wasn’t happy.” He said, watching him as if there was a countdown on his chest showing how long he had before Louis would explode. Louis panted, slammed the heel of his hand into the wall, “I tried so fucking hard to be good enough, Harry. I tried so fucking hard, but instead of speaking to me, you go out and find someone else?! I know I’ve never been good enough for you but you could have left me first, Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” He screamed, his throat burning, tears racing down his cheeks. Harry’s fists clenched, “That’s just it, Louis. You have this pathetic little fucking thought that you’re not good enough. You try so god damn hard to make me feel sorry for you, you cling so fucking tight to me that I can’t breathe! You don’t give me anything back, Louis. You don’t fucking try to make this marriage better for me!” he shouted. Louis scoffed, “Pathetic?! You’re pathetic, Harry! You’re so pathetic that you have to run to someone else because you can’t just fucking talk to me about it!” He screamed. His head was spinning and his voice was trembling and breaking the louder he got. He never thought that Harry would do this, he never thought Harry would betray him like this, break every promise, validate every lie. He never thought he’d hurt him this way. Harry smirked, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to let Louis make him feel bad for being happy. He wasn’t going to let Louis take away his pleasure and joy just because he had none of his own. “You’re fucking pathetic, Louis. You can’t face the fact that I haven’t loved you in a long, long time. You can’t face that I’m able to be happy, that not everyone has to be in constant pain for no reason like you are. I can’t do this anymore.” he scoffed, watching Louis in disgust as he froze, blood chilling as he listened to Harry’s words. The door slammed and he stared ahead of him. It happened so fucking fast that the only thing he could wonder was if he was dreaming and the only feeling he wanted to have was a knife in his chest. It might hurt less than hearing Harry say he didn’t love him anymore. 

From that day on, Louis was in a constant state of thought. He never spoke, he never left his house, he never did anything but think, and reminisce, and wish, and hope and pray that Harry would come back for him or that death would strike him down first. 

☁

 

Thoughts were weighing heavy on Harry’s mind ever since Zayn came over, an apologetic sadness in his eyes as he explained Louis’ conditions. He was wondering how to stop feeling guilty when he woke up with Alex in his arms when he was dreaming of Louis mere minutes before. He wondered how he was going to go to court in four days and really, truly end things with Louis, someone he considered the love of his life just a few months ago. The closer their court date got, the louder Harry’s thoughts were. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he crawled back, begging on his knees for forgiveness. He wondered if Louis would ever consider taking him back. If he knew anything about Louis, it was that he was only able to give so much of himself before he was empty. There wasn’t much of himself he could give away, but he knew that what Louis could give was beautiful. He knew that the heart he still held between his palms was glowing, and he knew it was bright. He knew it was nothing but pure love even though it had seeped through some of the cracks in the surface. Another thing he knew about Louis was that if he was given something, he made his best efforts to give back. He knew that because there was a soft, constant ache in his chest where his heart was. The only time his chest felt full was when he was close enough to the boy holding it in his own hands. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn’t like the way Alex felt in his arms. He didn’t like how her long hair got tangled around him or stuck to his skin. He didn’t like how she didn’t wear his sweaters to bed, and he didn’t like that she never giggled when he woke her up with kisses. At first he did, he loved every single thing about her, but maybe it was just the rush of learning something new. It was just the initial moment of his body contacting the water he was diving into, but once he was used to it, there was nothing exciting about it. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day, hardly speaking to Alex even when she asked what was wrong. He brushed it off, bringing up something about a headache, or just being sleepy. He knew that she knew something was wrong when he didn’t kiss her goodnight, he knew that she knew something was off when his back was turned to hers when they went to bed that night. 

 

☁

 

It was two in the morning the night before the court hearing and Louis hadn’t been in worse shape since the night Harry left. He was staring blankly at the ceiling above him, hand resting on Harry’s side of the bed while tears rolled down the sides of his face. The silence was deafening to him, his thoughts raging like a war inside his head. What would happen if he didn’t show up? What would happen if he just left, just packed his bags and moved somewhere new where he could pretend to know what love meant long enough to break someone’s heart. He took a shaky breath, huffing out a sob as more tears ran down his cheek. He moved for the first time in hours, pulling the pillow next to him into his chest. Harry’s scent had faded from the pillow but if Louis shut his eyes tight enough, he could nearly remember how it felt to lay next to him. After a few minutes, he settled, silent tears streaming down his cheeks rather than violent sobs ripping from his throat and tumbling from his lips. Just as he relaxed, catching his breath, there was a knock at the door. A frantic, loud, menacing knock that made Louis feel uneasy. He got up, pulling the loose material of a familiar white cableknit sweater around his frame tighter as he walked to the door. He turned on the light, eyes stinging as he unlocked the door with shaking hands. Maybe it was Zayn again, making sure he ate, making sure he cleaned up the glass like he promised (he didn’t.) or maybe making sure he was still alive (he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.) 

☁

 

Two hours before the knock at Louis’ door, there was a click of Alex’s front door as it shut. It was one of Harry’s nicer break-ups, he had to admit. It was short, and it was sweet, and he would never again be as grateful as he was when Alex told him that she just wanted him happy. The past few days were torture for Harry, his heart and mind jaded with constant, repetitive, borderline obsessive thoughts about Louis. About missing him, about loving him, about regretting everything he did. About his skin, his hair, his smile, his touch, the way he kissed, the way he cried, the way he laughed and everything in between. They were just things that Harry hadn’t, and would never let go of. He blurted it at dinner, setting his fork down and looking at Alex. “I still love him.” he said, the words leaving his lips before his mind had the chance to gather itself and shut him up. Alex looked up, a soft smile on her lips. “I know, you talk in your sleep.” She laughed quietly, eyes not meeting his. Harry swallowed hard, folding his hands in his lap before moving them to the table, resting his head in them. He shut his eyes, thanking Alex silently when she broke the uncomfortable silence between them. “I know you’re not happy, Harry. I… I need you happy, and I want what’s best for you. What’s best for us, and I think that being with someone unhappy takes a toll on both people in a relationship. I… I think it’s time.” She said wisely, being strong about it. She was hurt, yes, but she knew that people came and went until you found the one person that was stuck in your life until the end. She also knew Harry wasn’t that person, and as much as she’d grown to love him, she couldn’t keep him from whom he loved. They ended things with a hug and a click of her front door. He drove around for two hours, trying to clear his head but when he realized that it wasn’t happening, he sped home, papers resting on the seat next to him. 

 

☁

 

Louis opened the door the smallest bit, “Zayn, I’m fine.” he said quietly before his eyes locked with a pair a foot higher than Zayn’s were supposed to be. He froze, heart racing out of his chest, the beats so loud he could hear them in his own ears. He opened the door, a tension between their bodies that didn’t allow Harry to enter the house. “What are you doing here?” He asked, tears welling in his eyes once again. It was like every surprise he’d ever gotten, both good and bad, wrapped into one. It was the pain of coming home and finding out a relative or pet died, but the same satisfaction as coming home to a home cooked candle-lit dinner. It was the rush of a car nearly hitting yours, but the excitement of getting tickets to a show you thought you’d never see. He wasn’t sure how to feel and it was causing a riptide in his chest that was inevitably going to crash and swallow him from the inside out. Harry looked him up and down, swallowing hard as he handed Louis the folder. “I… can’t do this tomorrow. I… we… there’s no way I can go in that room tomorrow and tell them I don’t want you anymore when you’re still the first thing I want to wake up to, Louis.” He whispered. Louis took the folder with trembling hands and held it to his chest, rendered speechless. He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t have the chance to because in mere seconds he was pushed against the wall, arms cradling his small frame with lips pressed to his. He dropped the folder, hands going up to cup Harry’s cheeks, kissing back with all the passion he had been craving for the last three months. He kissed back with all the anger, and rage, and regret and worry he had stored in his blood for the last few months. He lost track of time when they ended up on the floor, the corners of the folder pressing into the skin of his thighs as he was pinned down, lips never detaching from his for what felt like hours. When both sets of lungs in the room were screaming and begging for more air, Harry pulled away and panted softly, gazing down at Louis, watching Louis’ lips say the words he was thinking. “I love you.” he whispered meekly, tears welling up in his crystal blue eyes. He wondered if he was dreaming because he’d had this dream at least twice this week but none of them left his lips numb or his lungs aching. None of them left his heart beating in sporadic whispers of Harry’s name. Harry felt a smile spread across his lips, “I love you too.” he breathed, sealing the words with a kiss. 

☀

 

There are so many put downs to good things. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. All good things come to an end. Louis wonders why there are so many bad things to say about good things when good things do come to an end, but only in cycles. They start back up, fresh and sweet like the strawberries on his crepes Harry brought him this morning. He wondered why doors opened to the outside when they could be shut on lazy Sunday mornings all tangled up with his husband, sliding in and out of sleep and consciousness. He wondered why they locked you out when you were a little bit tired of kissing in the rain and wanted to cuddle up on the couch instead. But even though he wonders all these things, he knows that when doors are meant to open and close, they will, and it’s always for a reason. He now knows that when his door shuts, it’ll be opened by the same hands that press into his skin to greet him and the same hands holding a bouquet of flowers just because. He knows that sometimes finality isn’t really final and temporary is his new favorite word, but only when used in the same context as gone and hurt. He knows that forever is pressed against his back, whispering soft praises into his ear between kisses to his skin. Forever is something he could live with well… forever.


End file.
